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u I love a ballad but even too well ; if it be doleful matter, 
merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung 
lamentably." Winter's Tale. 




The chief attraction of the present Collection con- 
sists in the recovery of early versions of two or three 
popular Scotish Ballads, which, passing through the 
barber-ous hands of Allan Ramsay, or other reno- 
vators of ancient garments, have, like the silk stock- 
ings of Sir John Outlar, retained very few portions 
of their original texture. 

Thus " Scornful," (termed by Ramsay " Bonny") 
Nancy, is essentially different from the song intro- 
duced to the notice of the public in the Tea-Table 
Miscellany, and the recovery of the original ballad 
establishes, in spite of Mr. Stenhouse's observations 
to the contrary,* that the lady had not escaped intact 
from the poet's embraces. It is singular that the 
dialect used in the original is peculiar to Aberdeen- 
shire, a circumstance which would tend to fix the 
locality there, and lead to an inference that the 
author belonged to that district of country. 

* See page 12. 



IV 

The modern edition of " No Dominies for me 
Lady," has not more than three or four lines of the 
one here printed, and it may be noticed that it also 
differs very essentially from an original, perhaps 
unique, broadside of the Ballad, in possession of the 
Editor. It has been suggested that the word should 
be Laddie, not Lady — but as the latter occurs in the 
MS. as well as in the broadside, it was not deemed 
expedient to adopt the emendation, however ingenious. 

It is unnecessary to go over the list, so the Reader 
is referred for further observation to the short 
Prefatory Introduction prefixed to each Ballad. It 
is proper, however, to give some account of the 
MS. whence the first ten Ballads have been taken. 
It is in the hand-writing of William Hamilton, 
younger of Airdrie, and forms a few leaves, prefixed 
to a small oblong duodecimo, containing almost en- 
tirely Notes of Lectures on Physic by Professor Tran 
of the University of Glasgow, from 1699 to 1700 ; 
the remaining two or three leaves consisting of " a 
Catalogue of Books left at Airdrie by W. H.," and a 
memorandum of books lent. 

The manuscript is now in possession of the great- 
grandson of the former owner, Sir William Hamilton 



of Preston, Bart., who kindly gave the uncontrolled 
use of it to the Editor. The Ballads were evidently 
written down by Mr. Hamilton when at College, and 
probably when recording them, he little imagined 
that they would eventually turn out to be the more 
interesting portion of his MS. The rest of the Col- 
lection consists of a few Ballads and Fragments, two 
or three of which were taken down from recitation, 
and the remainder from scarce broadsides. 

It may here be remarked, that the Ballad entitled 
the " Cardinal's Coach Couped" refers to the Toler- 
ation Act, by which the persecuted Episcopal Clergy 
got some relief. The case of the Reverend Mr. 
Greenshields, which had been determined in favour 
of the Presbyterian Inquisition by the Court of Ses- 
sion, was taken by Appeal to the House of Lords, 
and there reversed. The disclosures attendant upon 
the discussion of this suit revealed to those in Eng- 
land the intolerable hardships to which their brethren 
in Scotland were exposed, and the Legislature inter- 
fered in their behalf. For an account of the whole 
proceedings, the Reader may be referred to the valu- 
able History of the Scotish Episcopal Church from the 
Revolution, by John Parker Lawson, M. A. Edin- 
burgh, 1843, p. 196. By the Cardinal, Principal 



VI 



Carstairs, the head of the Presbyterian party is 
meant ; it was the sobriquet usually applied to him 
by the Jacobites. 

Some of the lines may shock the fastidious, but as 
the Volume is intended for private circulation, and as 
the impression is limited to sixty copies, [one 
copy upon vellum printed exclusively for the Col- 
lection of Vellum Books in the matchless Library of 
Joseph Walter King Eyton, Esquire, of Elgin 
Villa, Leamington, Warwickshire,] any apology for 
giving the different versions without castration seems 
unnecessary. 



3, London Street. "I 
November 1843. J 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Preface, - - - m - - iii 

Blythe Jockie, - 1 

Lady Arrol's Lament, 5 

No Dominies for me Lady, 8 

Bonnie Nancy, - - - - 12 

The Shepherd of Dona, - 16 

Willy and Marie, - - - - - 18 

To Danton me, - - - - - 2 1 

Dool for my Eyen, - 23 

Love is the cause of my Mourning, 26 

Thoughtless Clora, ----- 28 

The Marquis of Huntley's Retreat from the Battle of Sheriff- 

Muir, ------ 30 

The Cheat Detected ; or a Hint to Poets, 38 

The Windy Writer, ----- 43 

Pleasures of a Country Life, 45 

The Cardinal's Coach Couped, 47 

Tom Linn, ------ 54 

The Lady's Complaint, - - - - 61 

The Downfall of Cockburn's Meeting House, - - 64 

Glasgow's Parrad, 68 

Bold Rankin, ----- 73 




A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



Blyth Jocky is given in Johnson's Scotish Musical Museum, vol. i. 
No. 24, with different and very inferior words. In the notes, 
p. 23, it is said both " the air and words of this Anglo-Scotish 
Song" are comparatively modern. It was inserted in the first 
edition of Horsfield's Songster's Companion. 2 vols. 12mo. 
London, 1770. 



Blyth Jockie young and gay, 

He's all my hearts delight — 
He's all my thoughts by day, 

And in my dreams by night. 
If from the lad I be, 
Its winter then with me ; 
But while he's with me here, 
Its summer all the year. 



A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 



When Jockie and I did meet 

First in the shady grove, 
How kindly he did me treat, 
And sweetly talk't of love. 
Ye are the lass, said he, 
That stoll my heart from me. 
Come ease me of my pain, 
And doe not me disdain. 



I'm blyth when Jockie comes, 

Sad when he goes away ; 
It's night when Jockie gloums, 
But when he smiles it's day. 
Where e're we meet I pant, 
I colour, sigh, and faint, 
What lass that would be kind, 
Can better tell her mind. 



He was a bonnie lad 

As ever I did see, 
He made my heart soe glad, 

When first he courted me. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

I could not well deny, 
Bat soon I did comply. 
Soe Jockie promis'd me, 
That he would faithful be. 



Jockie did promise me, 

That he would still prove true, 
But to my grief, I fear. 

He hath bid me adieu. 
Jockie and I did play, 
And pass the time away ; 
But now he's false, forsworn, 
And left me here to mourn. 



Now Jockie hath a love, 

That is more rich than I, 
He doth soe cruel prove, 
To shun my company, 
And if I chance to meet, 
My Jockie in the street, 
He will not stop nor stay 
But proudly goes away. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



My heart is like to break, 
Since he is soe unkind, 

What course then shall I take, 
To ease my troubled mind. 

I sigh, I sob, I mourn, 

I dayly rage and burn, 

But yet this cruel he 

Laughs at my misery. 

8 

Once in a month, he sends 

A letter unto me 
Vowing he still intends, 

To love me heartily. 
But when I come in place, 
And doe behold his face, 
Then he noe notice takes, 
Which makes my heart to break. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



II. 



Hatrg Stool's Hmweut 



This Ballad is not to be found in any of the Collections. Who the 
Lady Arrol (Errol) may be is not very easy to say. There was 
a very naughty lady of the Carnegie family that married the 
Earl of Errol, and attempted his life. Her cause of dislike will 
be found in a note prefixed to a ballad on the subject, printed by 
C. K. Sharpe, Esq. in his Ballad Book, p. 89. 



When I'm absent from the lass that I love, 

I fain would resolve to love noe more ; 
My reason would my flames remove, 

But my love-sick heart doth still adore. 
My weak endeavours are all in vain, 

They vanish so soon as shee returns ; 
And with a sigh relapse again, 

Into a raging fever burns. 



A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 



To the rocks and the hills I make my moan, 

To whom my passion I doe tell, — 
I fancied that I heard her moan 

Her echoes back I lov'd soe well, — 
Leave off your passion, and do not pursue, 

Lest it should end in misery ; 
For shee is in love, but not with you. 

Why should ye then despair and dye. 



We may change countrey, and not move 

Our constancy and fervent love, 

Though ye see ourselves ye know not our minde, 

We may be absent'and yet kind ; 

But I vow to thee, and (the) world shall see, 

That absence shall never alter me, 

My dearest dear doe ye the same, 

We're parted, but we'l meet again. 



My dearest let nothing trouble your heart, 
For here I am returned again, 

In order to cure that killing smart, 
Whereof ye often did complain, 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

It's true I was banisb/d from my love, 
Which was great sorrow and grief to me, 

But now I shall ever loyal prove, 
Soe long as I keep my liberty. 



Thou art my true and entire friend, 

My chamber and all 1 have is thine, 
There is noe bad thoughts shall me offend, 

Thy love hath win this heart of mine. 
Dry up your sighs and tears shee says, 

And bid all sorrows and cares adieu, 
Though fortune a while did us divide, 

Yet I fancy none in the world but you. 



% 



O A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

III. 

#0 ©oroitties tot me Hatrg. 

In the new edition of Johnson's Musical Museum, vol. v. 504, there 
is a copy of a ballad entitled " No Dominies for me, Laddie," said 
to be taken from Yair's Charmer, vol. ii. p. 347. Edin. 1751. 
Ritson, who inserted it in his collection, was unable to discover 
the tune ; but the late James Balfour, Esq. Accountant in Edin- 
burgh, communicated the original melody, and it has been given 
in the first named publication. 

It is said to have been written by the late Rev. Nathaniel 
Mackie, Minister of Cross-Michael, who died on the 26th Janu- 
ary 1781, aged 66, but the Editor has a broadside of the 
original ballad, printed certainly not later than 1700, and the 
copy from the Hamilton MS. is at least as early in date. 

In Buchan's Gleanings of Scarce Old Ballads, the Rev. John Forbes, 
Minister of Deer, is said to be the author. He died in 1769, in 
the 80th year of his age. He must therefore have been eleven 
years of age in 1700 — the date of the Hamilton MS. — a fact 
which militates against the claim of authorship set up for him. 

Perhaps one or other of these reverend gentlemen may have had a 
hand in altering the original ballad, which is now for the first 
time printed. 



No Dominies for me Lady, no Dominies for me, 
For books and gouns will all goe doun, 
No Dominies for me, 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD EALLADS. 

They can court and complement, 

But they ne're conquer me Lady, 

Tie keep the fifth commandement ; 
No Dominies for me Lady. 



My parents will not give consent, 

To match with Dominies Lady, 

Soe I'le keep the fifth commandement ; 
No Dominies for me Lady. 



Stipends are uncertain rents 

For lady's conjunct fee Lady. 
Ministers make poor testaments ; 

No Dominies for me Lady. 



Lairds will take the place Lady, 

Both at dore and mass Lady. 

Lairds must sit, chaiplains must stand, 

And bow and say the grace Lady. 



10 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



To lairds ye seem to bear respect, 

And Dominies disdain Lady ; 

But a Dominie may chance to be 

Your glory and your gain Lady. 



Phisisians they your pulse can feel — 
Your fever can allay Lady ; 

But a Dominie can give a peil 

That can your heart betray Lady. 



Stipends are uncertain rents I grant 

For lady's conjunct fees Lady; 

But ministers scarce ever want 

Or theirs, and what would ye have Lady. 



8 



If revolutions they doe come, 

Into the ministry Lady ; 

Then Kirklands will goe back to Rome, 

And your Lairds to poverty Lady. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 11 

9 

Your parents may perhaps give consent, 
To match with Dominies Lady ; 

Then ye the fifth commandement 

May keep, and not despise Lady. 



10 



But if some other things fall in, 

That they will still gainsay Lady ; 
Yet constancy will bear the gree, 

And true love keep alway Lady. 



11 



When Lairds and Gentlemen do fall 

Into some heinous crime Lady, 

Ye'll sigh, and wring these pleasant hands ; 
But alace its out of time Lady.* 



* The printed broadside noticed in the preliminary remarks, 
differs essentially from the copy of the ballad now printed. 



12 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



IV. 



i&OtWtC J&ttttg+ 



This ballad occurs in Ramsay's Tea- Table Miscellany, (13th Edi- 
tion), 1762, p. 17. The version is the same as that given 
by Herd, and Ritson. The present copy is entirely differ- 
ent, and as the earliest one known is now for the first time 
printed. Ramsay calls the lady slighted Nancy, to the tune of 
" The Kirk wad let me be." Why she is designated " slighted" 
in place of scornful, as Herd and Ritson have it, or " Bonny," 
as the Hamilton MS. gives it, is not easy to see ; for in place of 
being " slighted," she is the party who slights her would-be 
spouse. 

It is included in the " Orpheus Caledonius," and in John- 
son's Scotish Musical Museum, vol. i. No. 50, under the name 
of " Scornful" Nancy. Mr. C. K. Sharpe, in a note, ob- 
serves, he has an ancient MS. subjoined to an early transcript of 
Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel, which has a better reading. 
The last line of stanza 3, makes " Shamy's" father ride " on gude 
shanks nagie," whereas in his MS., (in like manner with the 
version now printed, ) the line stands, — 

" He rode an ambling nagie,'' 

Which is more in keeping with the rest of the description. 

Mr. Stenhouse, says (Scotish Musical Museum, p. 54) " This is 

one of the fine old and exquisitely humorous Scottish songs which 
has escaped the polishing file of Ramsay, and happily reached 
us in its simple and native garb !" 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 13 



Nancy's to the Greenwood gain 

To hear the gowdspink shattering ; 
And Shamy followed her amain 

To court her with his flattering. 
But a* his flattering wad nae dee, 

She scornfuly reshect him ; 
And fan he tid pekin to woo, 

She speert fa tid beget t him. 



Fatt ails thee at my dade, quoth hee, 

My minny or my aunty, 
With croudy moudy they fed me, 

Lang kail and ranty tanty ; 
And bannocks of guide gredden meal, 

Of that we had great plenty ; 
And noganes full of hacket kaile, 

And fow kan that was dainty. 



Although my faither was nae laird, 
I speak it without bantrey ; 

He keepet ay a guid kail yeard, 
A ha hons and a pantrey. 



14 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

He ware a ponet on hims head, 
Ane ourlar bout hims craigie ; 

And to hims very dying day, 
He rade ane ambling naigie. 



And fatt although my minny baik 

A bannock in here mister ; 
She had a girdle and a baick-bord, 

That she lent to her syster. 
Her callour body ys a clean, 

And fite as any linnen Qilly?] ; 
And a green plaid, it may be seen, 

Sae shee's nae gilter jilly- 



On her side there is great pride, 

Of that I think nae wondra ; 
She busks hersell twice in the week, 

And three times in the Sunday. 
With pity coat and mantay coat, 

And jampy coat like lilly ; 
And a green scarf to cover all, 

Sae she's baith fair and comely. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 15 

6 

Then Nancy turn'd here round about, 

With great disdain and scorn ; 
And Shamie stood her in great doubt, 

As hee had been forlorn. 
Wae and vondra light on thee, 

Wad thow have bony Nancy ; 
Wad thow compare thyself to me, — 

A cow's turd to a tancy ? 



I bid thee then goe hame, Gibb Glaicks, 

John Jillets, or some other ; 
Or els I fear thow gett thy paiks, 

Goe ge be wall your father. 
For I have a yonker of my own, 

They call him souple Sandy ; 
And well I wot he kens the gate 

To play at hough-ma-gandy. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 
V 

®J)* $$c$$*rtt of 35ona, 

Termed the "Shepherd Adonis" in Kainsay's Tea- Table Miscellany, 
p. 115, (13th Edition), who has interpolated and altered, to suit 
his own fancy, almost every stanza. It is now given from the 
Hamilton MS. 

It is inserted in Johnson's Musical Museum, and in the notes, 
Vol. ii. p. 148, has been attributed to Sir Gilbert Elliot of 
Minto, Bart. This, it is presumed, must mean the first Baronet, 
the founder of the family, as the third Baronet, the author of 
the celebrated song, — 

" My sheep I neglected — I broke my sheep hook.'-' 

was not born for twenty years after the date of the Hamilton MS. 



The Shepherd of Dona being wearied with sport, 
To find some repose, to the woods did resort ; 
He threw by his pipe, and he laid himself down, 
He envy'd noe monarch, he wished for noe crown. 



He drank of the brook, and did eat of the tree, 
Injoying himself, from all trouble was free ; 
He calFd for noe nymph, were she never soe fair, 
He'd noe love, noe ambition, and therfor noe care. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 17 



But as he lay thus, in ane evening soe cleare, 
A pleasant sweet voyce outreached his eare ; 
Which came from Arcadia, that old ancient grove, 
Where the fair nymph Elreda frequented that cove. 



4 



As he lay thus, [reposing] and found she was there, 
He was quite confounded to see her soe fair ; 
He stood like a ston, not a foot he could move, 
He knew not what ail'd him, but fear'd it was love. 



That nymph she beheld him with a modest grace, 
Seing somewhat majestick appear in his face ; 
Till with blushing a little, to him she did say, 
Oh, good shepherd what mean you, how came ye this 
way. 



With reviving of spirits unto her he said, 
I was ne'r soe surpris'd at the sight of a maid ; 
Ay until I beheld thee of love I was free, 
But now I'me ta'en captive my faire love by thee. 

2 



18 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



VI. 



This Jacobite production, which has considerable merit, has not, 
it is believed, been hitherto printed. It is hardly necessary to 
mention that it is a violent attack on William III. and his Queen, 
for putting on their heads that crown which the previous wearer's 
infatuated bigotry had compelled him to lay down. 



Says Willy, my uncle Tie beat, 
I'le trip his heels over the doore : 
Says Mary, brother s a cheat, 
And beside he's the son of a whore. 
We'l banish religion and nature 
For these be noe friends in the case, 
But still we will cover the matter 
With vizours and masks of grace. 

Says Willie, I'le be a King, 

Says Mary, I'le be a Queen ; 

My uncle, said hee, 

My dady, said shee, 

We'l banish, and soe we shall reigne. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS- 19 



The trayterous party that murder'd 
Our Grandfather Charle de Bonn, 
Shall be rewarded and honour'd 
For helping to banish his sone. 
Thanks be to knavery and knaves, 
Thanks be to presbitry and treason, 
For these be the sanctify'd means 
That gain'd us a croun, in good season. 

Says Willie, Tie be a King, 

Says Marie, Tie be a Queen ; 

My Uncle, said he, 

My Dady, said shee, 

We'le banish, and soe we will reigne. 

3 

Blest be these Independants, 
That took off our Grandfather's head, 
Lett them be still our defendants 
And our support in our need. 
For Presbitry hatched the egg, 
Independants the cockatrice nourish 
A crown, though begott with a plague, 
We care not soe longe as we flourish. 

Says Willie, Tie be a King, 

Says Mary, Tie be a Queen ; 

My Uncle, said he, 

My Dady, said shee, 

We'le banislr, and soe we shall reigne. 



20 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



Says Mary, our father we'l honnour, 
It's true said the Marmaiden elfe ; 
Before that a crown hurts his head, 
I'le dethron him and wear it myself ; 
For he is old and weak, 
And we are young and souple, 
And fitter than he for to reigne. 
[The Devil] take the couple, 

Says good old Jamy the King, 
Says good old Jamy the King. 
The heir of the crown. 
Though depriv'd [of his own], 
Is fitter than thee for to reigne. 



i 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 21 

VII. 

®o Canton mt. 

The tune taken from the first volume of Oswald's Caledonian 
Pocket Companion, printed in 1740, occurs in Johnson's Musical 
Museum, vol. ii. No. clxxxii, p. 176, with words by Burns. In 
the notes, p. 176, the old ballad is given, extracted from what 
is termed " a very rare and curious little book," entitled a 
Collection of Loyal Songs and Poems, printed in the year 1750. 
There are only three stanzas of it. It occurs also in Kitson. 

1 

When I was wanton, young, and free, 
I thought nothing could danton me ; 
But the eighty-eight and eighty-nine, 
And all the dreary years since sine ; 
Retention, sess, and pole money, 
Have done enough to danton mee. 



To danton me, to danton mee, 

I thought noe thing could danton mee ; 

But the abdication of our King, 

And Prelacy, that sacred thing, 

Usurping Prince and Presbytry, 

Have done right much for to danton me. 



22 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

3 

To dan ton me, to dan ton me, 

I thought noe thing could danton me ; 

The abjuration of the test, 

Apostles' creed and all the rest ; 

Lord's Prayer and doxology, 

Have done enough for to danton me. 

4 
But to wanton me, to wanton me, 
There is yet something would wanton me ; 
Our Hogen King he must goe owt, 
With all his Hogen Mogen rowt, 
And all the race of Presbytry, 
And that I trow would wanton me. 

5 
Would wanton me, would wanton me, 
There's yet a thing would wanton me ; 
Our King restor'd to all his three 
In health, peace, and prosperity ; 
No cess nor press, noe Presbytry, 
And that I trow would wanton me. 

6 
Would wanton me, would wanton me, 
There is yet something would wanton me ; 
To see good corn grow on the riggs 
Of persecution on the whiggs ; 
And a Synod sett for Assemblies, 
And that truly would wanton me. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 23 



VIII. 



liool for mg <&sm. 



In Hogg's Jacobite Relics, vol. i. p. 66, will be found a Ballad on 
the Stewart side of the question, entitled " Such a Parcel of 
Rogues in a Nation," which consists of three Stanzas, and has 
considerable merit. The present appears to be the Whig re- 
taliation, and bating one or two faulty lines, is not inferior to 
the Tory song. 



1 



Dool for my eyen that ever I have seen 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation, 
Who's only designe is to plot and combine 
For opposing a true reformation. 

But the Pope and the Turk 

Might find some easier work, 
To establish their formes amang them, 

Than these who take care 

Such abuses to repair, 
Such knaves 'twere no pity to hang them. 



24 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



When the Tories and the Teagues 

Had the charge of our craigs, 
When the fox had the Jambs in protection ; 

When tyrannical power 

Did our statutes devour, 
When our Court from a Priest took direction. 



When our coyn and our pow'r 

Wer consign'd upon a whore, 
When Hell, France, and Rome had intended 

To make us their slaves, 

And our houses our graves, 
They'r zealots wer ne'er discontented. 



But our Prince who withstood 

To his fortune, and blood, 
Our laws and religion defending, 

They defame, they oppose, 

They'r the worst of his foes, 
They'r traytours, though loyal pretending. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



25 



They have settled theyr hope 

On the Turke and the Pope, 
With the Devil and the French to assist them ; 

But though theyr strength made them boast, 

They shall feel to theyr cost, 
That he's too great a power to resist them. 



6 



Let them bragg what they got 
From the English and Scott, 

Att Aloyne, or at Agrim, or Deep too, 
Or at Landau itself, 
Though the fols fairy elf, 

Had intended to catch them asleep too. 



Could our armys fairly meet, 
As it faired with the fleet, 

Perhaps ye should see some disaster ; 
They should lead such a dance, 
To that Hector in France, 

As our King at Aloyn did they master. 



26 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



IX. 



Hota is flje tans* of twg J&ottvmns. 

In Johnson's Musical Museum, Vol. 2, No. 109, will be found the 
tune of " Love is the cause of my Mourning,''— the words are 
entirely different from those now printed. The version given 
in the Orpheus Caledonius, (1725), Ramsay's Tea- Table Mis- 
cellany and Johnson, has been attributed to President Forbes. 



1 

When first my poor heart, unacquainted with love, 
Cupide with his bow T and his arrow did move ; 
Soe sweet was the wound, and soe gentle did prove, 

While as yet my poor heart was a bleeding. 
I knew not what ailed me, yet something 1 found, 
Which I ne'er found before, still the more did abound; 
[For] Strephon, I knew, [kept] watch on the ground, 

Where his milky white flocks were a feeding. 



O Strephon the brave, the gallant, and gay, 
Soe sharp are his notes, and soe sweet he doth play, 
That he charms all the nymphs in the plains all the day, 
And at night he doth keep my heart burning. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 27 

O cruel that custom that forbids to reveal, 
A passion soe strong and soe hard to conceal, 
To the deserts Tie goe, to the plains bid farewell, 
Since love is the cause of my mourning. 
Where the sweet nightingale 
With dolful notes doth quell, 
My longsome funeral 
As shee's flying ; 
Caus tell the woods the secret Strephon tell, 
The direful account of my dying.* 

* There is evidently something wrong here, but the Editor has 
given the verse as it occurs in the MS. omitting one word before 
Strephon in the last line but one, which is illegible. 




28 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

X. 

Thoughtless Clora is the worst in the Collection, and hardly merits 

preservation. 

] 

Cloras full of harmless thoughts, beneath yon well she 

lay, 
Had love a youthful shepherd brought to pass the time 

away ; 
She blessed to be encounter'd so, by that enamour'd 

swain ; 
But when she rose and strove to go, he puFd her back 

again. 



A sudden passion seized her then, and spite of her dis- 
dain, 

She found a pulse in every place, and love in every 
vein; 

What passions this that youth betrays, in spite of all 
surprize — 

Don't lett me fall unless you please, and leave noe 
power to rise. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



29 



She fainting stood and tremblingly, for fear he should 

comply ; 
Her lovely eyes her heart betray'd, and made her heart 

to lye ; 
And she who Princes had deriy'd, with all their pomp 

and train, 
In that unlucky minute was betray'd unto the pucky ?] 

swaine. 




30 A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS- 



XI. 



W&t $targms of ^twtleg's Hetrtat 
from fyt battle of $$*r(fftmtfc 



This very clever and spirited Ballad has been introduced by Hogg 
in the second volume of his Jacobite Relics from a very im- 
perfect manuscript copy. The present one is taken from the 
original broadside, supposed to be unique, belonging to Mr. 
David Haig of the Advocates' Library. 

1 

From Bogie side to Bogie Gight, 

The Gordons all conveen'd, man, 
With all their might, to battle weight, 

Together closs they join'd, man, 

To set their King upon the throne, 

And to protect the church, man ; 

But fy for shame ! they soon ran hame, 

And left him in the lurch, man. 

Vow as the Marquis ran, 

Coming from Dumblane, man ; 
Strabogie did beshit itself, 

And Enzie was not clean, man. 
Vow, &c. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 31 



Their chieftain was a man of fame, 

And doughty deeds had wrought, man, 
Which future ages still shall name, 

And tell how well he fought, man. 
For when the battle did begin, 

Immediately his Grace, man, 
Put spurs to Florance,* and so ran 

By all, and wan the race, man. 
Vow, &c. 



The Marquis' horse was first sent forth, 

Glenbucket's foot to back them, 
To give a proof what they were worth, 

If rebels durst attack them. 
With loud huzzas to Huntly's praise, 

They near'd Dumfermling Green, man, 
But fifty horse, and de'il ane mair, 

Turn'd many a Highland clan, man. 
Vow, &c. 



* His horse so called from having been a present from the Grand 
Duke of Tuscany. 



32 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



The second chieftain of that clan, 

For fear that he should die, man, 
To gain the honour of his name, 

Rais'd first the mutinie, man. 
And then he wrote unto his Grace, 

The great Duke of Argyle, man, 
And swore if he would grant him peace, 

The Tories he'd beguile, man. 



The Master * with the bullie's face, 

And with the coward's heart, man. 
Who never fails, to his disgrace, 

To act a traitor's part, man. 
He join'd Drumboig, the greatest knave 

In all the shire of Fife, man. 
He was the first the cause did leave, 

By council of his wife, man. 
Vow, &c. 

* Master of Sinclair, whose Court-Martial has been printed with 
an exceedingly interesting preface by Sir Walter Scott, as his con- 
tribution to the Roxburgh Club, — it is one of the most curious of 
the Club Books. The Memoirs of the Master still, it is to be re- 
gretted, remain in manuscript. 



A NRW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS- 33 



A member of the tricking trade, 

An Ogilvie by name, man ; 
Consulter of the grumbling club, 

To his eternal shame, man. 
Who would have thought, when he came out. 

That ever he would fail, man ; 
And like a fool, did eat the cow, 

And worried on the tail, man. 
Vow, &c. 



Meffan Smith,* at Sheriff Muir, 

Gart folk believe he fought, man ; 
But well its known, that all he did, 

That day it serv'd for nought, man. 
For towards night, when Mar march'd off, 

Smith was put in the rere, man ; 
He curs'd, he swore, he bauld out, 

He would not stay for fear, man. 
Vow, &c 



* David Smith was then proprietor of Methven, an estate in 
Perthshire. He died in J 735. Douglas, in his Baronage, terms 
him, " a man of good parts, great sagacity, and economy." 

3 



34 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS- 



8 



But at the first he seeni'd to be 

A man of good renown, man ; 
Bat when the grumbling work began, 

He prov'd an arrant lown, man- 
Against Mar, and a royal war, 

A letter he did forge, man ; 
Against his Prince, he wrote nonsense, 

And swore by Royal* George, man. 
Vow, &c. 



9 



At Poineth boat, Mr. Francis Stewart, t 

A valiant hero stood, man ; 
In acting of a royal part, 

Cause of the royal blood, man. 
But when at Sheriff Moor he found, 

That bolting would not do it, 
He, brother like, did quite his ground, 

And ne're came back unto it. 
Vow, &c. 



* 



Altered in MS. to " German/' 
t Brother to Charles, 5th Earl of Moray. Upon his brother's 
death, 7th October 1735, he became the 6th Earl. He died in 
the 66th year of his age, on the 11th December 1739. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 35 



10 



Brunstane said it was Dot fear 

That made him stay behind, man; 
But that he had resolv'd that day 

To sleep in a whole skin, man. 
The gout, he said, made him take, 

When battle first began, man ; 
But when he heard his Marquis fled, 

He took his heels and ran, man. 
Vow, &c 

11 

Sir James of Park, he left his horse 

In the middle of a wall, man ; 
And durst not stay to take him out, 

For fear a knight should fall, man ; 
And Maien he let such a crack, 

And shewed a pantick fear, man ; 
And Craigieheads swore he was shot, 

And curs'd the chance of wear, man. 
Vow, &c. 



12 



When they march'd on the Sheriff Moor, 
With courage stout and keen, man ; 



36 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

Who would have thought the Gordons gay, 
That day should quite the green, man. 

Auchleacher and Auchanaehie, 
And all the Gordon tribe, man ; 

Like their great Marquis, they could not 
The smell of powder bide, man. 
Vow, &c. 



13 

Glenbuicket cryed, plague on you all, 

For Gordons do no good, man ; 
For all that fled this day, it is 

Them of the Seaton blood, man. 
Clash tirim said it was not so, 

And that he'd make appear, man ; 
For he a Seaton stood that day, 

When Gordons ran for fear, man. 
Vow, &c. 



14 



The Gordons they are kittle flaws, 
They'll fight with heart and hand, man ; 

When they met in Strathbogie raws 
On Thursday afternoon, man ; 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 37 

But when the Grants came doun the brae, 

Their Enzie shook for fear, man ; 
And all the lairds rode up themselves, 

With horse and riding gear, man. 
Vow, &c. 

15 

Cluny* plays his game of chess, 

As sure as any thing, man ; 
And like the royal Gordons race, 

Gave check unto the King, man. 
Without a Queen, its clearly seen, 

This game cannot recover ; 
I'd do my best, then in great haste 
Play up the rook Hanover. 

Vow as the Marquis ran, 
Coming from Bumblain, man ; 
Strabogie did beshit itself. 
And Enzie was not clean, man. 
Vow, &c 

* This seems rather Gordon of Cluny than Cluny Macpherson. 
The estate of Cluny has passed from the ancient race, though still 
possessed by a Gordon. 



38 



A NEW BOOK OK OLD BALLADS. 



XII. 

Wfyt e^eat ©etwtetr ; ox a $iut to $oete. 

To the Tune of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury. 

" By Miss Anne Keith, daughter (youngest) of Mr. Keith, late 
Envoy at Russia, on the stupid ingratitude of Edinburgh to 
Colonel Graham, who gave the finest and most magnificent ball 
ever known in Scotland, and got no notice taken of it." MS. 
note on a copy of the original broadside, formerly in the posses- 
sion of the late William Boswell, Esquire, Sheriff of Berwick- 
shire. 

These verses are from the pen of the lady who is so admirably 
delineated under the name of Mrs. Bethune Baliol, by Sir 
Walter Scott, in the Introduction to the Chronicles of the Canon- 
gate. She was born in 1736, and died in April 1818. Her 
death is noticed by Sir Walter, in a letter dated 18th April of 
that year, addressed to Terry, — u You will be sorry to hear that 
we have lost our excellent old friend Mrs. Murray Keith. She 
enjoyed all her spirits and excellent faculties till within two 
days of her death, when she was seized with a feverish com- 
plaint, which eighty-two years were not calculated to resist. 
Much tradition, and of the very best kind, has died with this 
excellent old lady ; one of the few persons whose spirits and 
cleanliness, and freshness of mind and body, made old age lovely 
and desirable." 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 39 

Mr. Sharpe, in a note on the song " Oscar's Ghost," No. 70 of 
Johnson's Scotish Musical Museum, mentions that Miss Keith re- 
sided many years in Edinburgh, 51, George Street, keeping house 
with her elder sister, Miss Jenny, and that Sir Walter Scott 
told him the lady amused herself in her later years by translat- 
ing Macpherson's Ossian into verse. What became of the MS. 
after her decease is not known. 

These two ladies were daughters of Robert Keith of Murrayshall, 
in the county of Peebles. One of their brothers was Sir Robert 
Murray Keith, the Ambassador, and another, Sir Basil Keith, 
died Governor of Jamaica. It is understood that the papers and 
manuscripts of the former gentleman are in the possession of the 
Earl of Hardwicke. Various particulars relative to the family 
occur in Lord Lyndsay's delightful Lives of the Lindsays. Vol. 
ii. p. 188. 

1 

I'll tell you a story,, pray gentles draw near,, 
Of Graeme and his balls for the future beware ; 
He has played you a trick that you little suspected, 
But rog'ry, like murder, is always detected. 
Derry down, down, &e. 



On the eighteenth what zeal in your faces was seen, 
When summoned by him to drink health to the Queen ; 
You thought what he did was with upright design, 
And all that you drank was the juice of the vine. 
Derry down, &c. 



40 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS- 



Holyrood was illumined, enlivened each guest : 
How brilliant the Ball ! how superb was the Feast ! 
How splendid the gaiFry when all went to sup ; 
Ah ! who could have dreaded a snake in the cup. 
Derry down, &c. 

4 
The Beaux were so witty, the Belles looked so bright, 
And Graeme and his Kitty so kind and polite ; 
The Loves and the Graces so blended the whole. 
That pleasure there reigned without check or controul. 
Derry down, &c. 

5 

Who the deuce could have dreamt that from Lethe 

imported, 
Some hogsheads by Hermes were slily transported ; 
The rogue of a Graeme brib'd the rogue of a God, 
To convert all the wine with a touch of his rod. 
Derry down, &c 

6 
When whispering and ogling, and toasting and laugh- 
ing, 
Little thought the poor guests what a dose they were 

quaffing ; 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 41 

But alas ! the effects may the dullest convince, 
Oblivion and silence have reigned ever since. 
Derry down, &c. 



Prose writers were render'd unfit to tell facts, 
Even truth was silenced by repeated attacks ; 
Each poet and poetess had a deep dose, 
There was gratitude lulled to a thorough repose. 
Derry down, &c. 



8 



How long, cry'd the Graeme, will the charm have effect, 
Pray Heaven ! that no spy may the rog'ry detect ; 
Friend Hermes, I've lost all the aim of my plot, 
If me and my Ball are not henceforth forgot. 
Derry down, &c. 



For a fortnight 'twill last, on the word of a God, 
Or I'll forfeit, says Hermes, my cap and my rod ; 
A wonder, you know, can but hold out nine days, 
And I'll give you five more to secure you from praise. 
Derry down, &c. 



42 A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 

10 

Awake and revenge it ye dealers in rhyme, 
Tho* late, let him rue such an unheard of crime ; 
Let poems on poems be heaped up like Babel, 
And poets like harpers encircle his table. 
Derry down, &c. 

11 

May the wife of his bosom in rhyme still address him, 
And his daughter beloved, with verses oppress him ; 
May the Muses and Phoebus unite to perplex him, 
And grant me a patent poetick to vex him. 
Derry down, &c. 



% 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 43 



XIII. 



Wtft SBttt&g Wixittx. 



These verses, used to be sung by a lady who died twenty years since 
at an advanced age. She mentioned they were popular when 
she was young, but could give no explanation as to the parties 
referred to. Her maiden name was Cunninghame, and she 
married a Writer to the Signet of the name of Imlach, whom 
she survived. 



There lives a lass just at the Cross, 
Her face is like the paper, 

And she's forsaken Lairds and Lords 
And ta'en a windy writer. 



And he can neither write nor 'dite, 
And is it not great folly, 

We'll send him to the school again, 
Sing cut and dry, Dolly. 



44 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



Cut and dry's for gentleman, 
And corn and hay for horses, 

Salt and sugar for auld wives, 
And bonny lads for lasses. 



And when he comes back fra' the school, 
'Tis hoped he'll be much brighter ; 

So here's success to the bonny lass, 
And her spouse the windy writer. 




A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 45 



XIV. 



pleasures of a Cotwteg 3Life. 

From a MS. formerly belonging to James Anderson, the Anti- 
quarian, and now in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates. 



1 



You nymphs that will true pleasure learn, 
There is no comfort in a churn, 
The milk-maid sits beneath the cow, 
While sheep doth bleat and oxen low ; 
And if this is the pleasure of being a wife, 
Fate defend me from a country life. 



The team comes in, the ploughboy whistles, 
The great dog barks, the turkey-cock bristles, 
The ravens they croak, the magpie doth chatter, 
And the ducks they cry Quack, quack, in the water ; 

And if this is the pleasure of being a wife, 

Fate defend me from a country life. 



46 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



To live upon butter, with curds and whey, 

Deliver me, I heartily pray, 

Lean beef and fat pork, for to mend the matter, 

Brought in a slovenly great wooden platter ; 
And if this is the pleasure of being a wife, 
Fate defend me from a country life. 



The hogs they grunt for wash and swill, 

In comes the dairy-maid, and calls for Will 

To give them some meat to keep them from bawling ; 

The geese and the peacocks make such a squalling ; 

And if this is the pleasure of being a wife, 

Fate defend me from a country life. 




A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 47 



XV. 

W$t ^artrwal's eoad) eottpetr. 

The second title of this Ballad, as given in the broadside preserved 
in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates, is — " The Whigs' 
Lamentation for the Episcopal Toleration." It bears to have been 
printed at London " by John Morphew, mdccxi. Price Id." 

1 

Alas ! our Kirk has gat a scoup 

Upon her covenanted doup, 

I fear she run the gantland loup, 

For all the Leagues, 
The Cardinal has got a coup, 

With's Dutch intrigues. 



For fear Sacheverel should worrie 
Our darling Kirk, he in a hurrie 
Gets up, and cries Poor Folk of Currie 

Again we'll be, 
Unless you Sighing Sisters stir ye, 

And join with me. 



48 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



He made more haste than was good speed, 
Poor man, he couped arse o're head, 
For which our hearts were like to bleed, 

When we it saw, 
His very coach-horse out of dread, 

Him would not draw. 



Such overturning is not common, 

I fear it prove a fatal omen, 

And rouse the courage of the Roman 

And curate loons, 
To Bothuel Bridge then we shall go, man, 

Get they their gowns. 



Alas ! our sport is like to spill, 
Since we have lost our Billie Will. 
A man may see of little skill 

We'l be undone, 
Get they a Toleration Bill, 

We'l change our tune. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 49 



6 



And truely I think it's no wonder, 
Tho' we meet with a clap of thunder ; 
Considering how great a blunder, 

Of no old date 
Say what we will, we labour under, 

In Kirk and State. 



For now the Government well sees, 
We preach the things we don't practise ; 
The gilded bait that dims our eyes 

Is pride and self, 
Tho' vanity we do idolize, 

Yet more our self. 



8 



Again it's known that Presbytry 
Can ne'er consist with monarchy ; 
Our kingdom, crown, antiquity, 

At last we sold, 
A thing will make our memory 

Stink when it's told. 

4 



50 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



9 



Murder of kings or abdication, 

Are most conspicuous demonstration 

Of Presbyterian moderation. 

We only want 
To take the oath of abjuration 

To make a Saint. 

10 

But now I see the Government, 
With this Prelatick Parliament, 
To cast us off are fully bent ; 

So let us be 
Upon our guard the more intent 

Before we flee. 



11 



Saul in a strait to Witch of Endor, 
And Sweden's king to Turk at Bender 
Made their address ; so let us render 

What e're befall, 
Our kirk and cause to one that's tender 

Of our caball. 



A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 51 

12 

Then my advice if ye will hear, 
The fittest man is Major Weir ; 
Let's yelp and yell till he appear 

With's staff in hand. 
I think we need the less to fear 

If he command. 



13 

He'll leave the gloomy shades below, 
Some stratagem to us he'll show, 
How we may reach a fatal blow 

To Prelacie ; 
Or of our danger let us know 

The certain tie. 



14 



With rousty rappiers in our hands, 
Spades, forks, and graips, as we demand, 
Like Egypt's locusts, thro' the land 

We'll fill each place ; 
And march in covenanted band, 

Like babes of grace. 



52 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



15 



And if we chance to lose the field, 
Forc'd to the curat lowns to yield ; 
We'l take our heels for the best shield, 

And from some sister, 
Beneath her petticoat get bield, 

In our great mister. 

16 

And yet I cannot shun to smile, 
When I think on the canting stile 
We used in our late exile, 

To mend our breeks ; 
For well I mind it all the while, 

We grew like Greeks. 



17 



For our extemporary lecture, 

We drank the purest of the nectar, 

When once my lady's woman deckt her ; 

And which was best, 
The laird himself durst not us Hector, 

Tho' her we drest. 



A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 53 

18 

You need not think I'm speaking lies, 
Bear witness house of Cherry-trees, 
Where Dainty Davy* strove to please 

My lady's daughter ; 
And boldly crept between her thighs, 
For fear of slaughter. 

* The celebrated David Williamson, minister of the West Kirk, 
who when pursued by General DalyelPs troopers, was hid by the 
Lady Cherry-trees in her daughter's bed, and availed himself of 
that opportunity to add to the population. Cherry-trees is near 
Kelso, and belonged to a family of the name of Murray. His ex- 
ploit on that memorable occasion was celebrated in a song called 
Dainty Davy, adapted to an old air of the same name, still popu- 
lar, and which appears in Play ford's Dancing Master, 1657. See 
Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Song, Glasgow 1843, p. 98. 



i 



54 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

XVI. 

(A Fragment.) 

The following fragment of the interesting ballad of Tom Linn or 
Tamlane was taken down from the recitation of an old woman — 
it contains numerous deviations from the copy printed in the 
Border Minstrelsy, (Scott's Poetical Works, Vol. ii, p. 337,) and 
on that account has been included in this little volume. 



O ! all you ladies young and gay, 
Who are so sweet and fair ; 

Do not go into Chasters wood, 
For Tomlin will be there. 



Fair Margaret sat in her bonny bower, 

Sewing her silken seam ; 
And wished to be in Chaster's wood, 

Among the leaves so green. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 55 



She let the seam fall to her foot, 

The needle to her toe ; 
And she has gone to Chaster's wood, 

As fast as she could go. 



When she began to pull the flowers, 
She pulFd both red and green ; 

Then by did come, and by did go, 
Said, " Fair maid let abene. 



O ! why pluck you the flowers, lady, 
c< Or why climb you the tree ; 
Or why come ye to Chaster's wood 
" Without the leave of me ?" 



6 



" O ! I will pull the flowers/' she said, 
" Or I will break the tree, 

" For Chaster's wood it is my own ; 
" I'll ask no leave at thee." 



56 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS, 



He took her by the milk-white hand,, 
And by the grass-green sleeve ; 

And laid her down upon the flowers, 
At her he ask'd no leave. 

8 

The lady blush'd and sourly frown'd, 
And she did think great shame ; 

Says, " If you are a gentleman, 
" You will tell me your name." 



9 



" First they did call me Jack/' he said, 
" And then they call'd me John ; 

" But since I liv'd in the fairy court, 
" Tomlin has always been my name. 



10 

" So do not pluck that flower, lady, 
t€ That has these pimples gray ; 

" They would destroy the bonny babe 
" That we've gotten in our play." 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 57 
11 

" O ! tell to me, Tomlin," she said, 

" And tell it to me soon ; 
" Was you ever at a good church door, 

" Or got you Christendom ?" 

12 

" O ! I have been at good church door, 

" And oft her yetts within ; 
<l I was the laird of Foulis's son, 

« The heir of all his land. 

13 

" But it fell once upon a day, 

" As hunting I did ride ; 
" As I rode east and west yon hill, 

" There woe did me betide. 

14 

iC O ! drowsy, drowsy as I was, 

" Dead sleep upon me fell ; 
ei The Queen of fairies she was there, 

" And took me to hersel. 



58 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

15 

" The morn at even is Hallowe'en, 
" Our fairy court will ride 

" Through England and Scotland both, 
" Through all the world wide ; 

" And if that ye would me borrow, 
" At Rides Cross ye may bide. 

16 

ke You may go into the Miles Moss, 
u Between twelve hours and one ; 

" Take holy water in your hand, 
" And cast a compass round. 

17 

" The first court that comes along, 
" You'll let them all pass by ; 

e< The next court that comes along, 
" Salute them reverently. 

18 

ee The next court that comes along, 
fe Is clad in robes of green ; 

" And it's the head court of them all, 
Cl For in it rides the Queen. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 59 

19 

u And I upon a milk white steed, 

" With a gold star in my crown ; 
" Because I am an earthly man, 

" I'm next the Queen in renown. 

20 

" Then seize upon me with a spring, 

'• Then to the ground I'll fa' ; 
" And then you'll hear a rueful cry, 

" That Tomlin is awa'. 



21 

" Then I'll grow in your arms two, 
" Like to a savage wild ; 

" But hold me fast, let me not go, 
' e I'm father of your child. 

22 

" I'll grow into your arms two 
e( Like an adder, or a snake ; 

" But hold me fast, let me not go, 
u I'll be your earthly maik. 



60 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

23 

" I'll grow into your arms two, 
" Like ice on frozen lake ; 

" But hold me fast,, let me not go, 
" Or from your goupen break. 

24 

" I'll grow into your arms two, 
(C Like iron in strong fire ; 

" But hold me fast, let me not go, 
u Then you'll have your desire." 

25 

And its next night into Miles Moss, 

Fair Margaret has gone ; 
When lo she stands beside Rides Cross, 

Between twelve hours and one. 

26 

There's holy water in her hand, 
She casts a compass round ; 

And presently a fairy band 
Comes riding o'er the mound. 



i 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 61 

XVII. 

Wfyt Slatrg's eomplamt 

Written by Lord Binning, as to whom, see Walpole's Royal and 
Noble Authors. — Park's Edition. 

1 

A lady made a great complaint, 

A little while ago ; 
She seemed to be in great despair 

About a cook or two. 



But what's a nasty creeshy cook, 

To fill a heart with woe ? 
When folks complain they never think 

What others undergo. 



These many years I've rid about, 
And never had a skirt ; 

So you may guess my petticoats 
Have aye been in the dirt. 



62 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



And dirt's a thing I cannot thole, 
Yet dirt I must go thro' ; 

I kenna how to get a skirt, 
Or what to mak it o*. 



I fain wad wear a camblet skirt, 

My petticoats aboon ; 
But camblet's an untasty thing, 

And it would wear out soon. 



6 

If I should make a washing thing, 

It soon would flimsy be ; 
And all the laughing loons would make 

A laughing stock of me. 



For any one who's making wabs, 
It would be little work ; 

To add some five or six plies 
Of good Turk upon Turk. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



63 



8 

'Twould last me a my days, I'm sure, 
And would look very douse ; 

But then, I fear, I'd be a lump, 
And look as big's a house. 

9 

I cannot make it to my mind, 

To want it is a load ; 
In short I must not ride at all, 

And there's the upshot o'd. 




64 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



XVIII. 

Qfyt itobwfall of eocftfttttrn's J&tttmg 

To the Tune of Come sit thee down my Phillis. 

The following song of triumph upon the destruction of the Episcopal 
chapel of the Rev. Mr. Cockburn in Glasgow has been carefully 
preserved by Wodrow, and is now in the Library of the Faculty 
of Advocates. It is a most delightful specimen of the Presby- 
terian muse, and is worthy of the important national event it was 
intended to commemorate. " Curate" Cockburn, as he was de- 
signated by his opponents, was a bitter thorn in the side of poor 
Wodrow,— he was zealous, able, and popular, and had occasioned 
much annoyance by his denying the validity of Presbyterian 
baptism, — hence the destruction of his chapel, or meeting-house 
as it was then contemptuously called, was a laudable act in the 
eyes of the rigidly righteous. This striking illustration of 
puritanical zeal occurred in August 1714. See the Wodrow 
Correspondence, vol. i, p. 562. 



We have not yet forgot, Sir, 

How Cockburn's kirk was broke, Sir ; 
The pulpit gown was pulled down, 

And turned into nought, Sir. 



t 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 65 



The pulpit- cloth was rent, Sir, 
Unto the Cross was sent,, Sir ; 
The boys that did convoy it 
Were into prison put, Sir. 



The Chess- windows they were broke, Sir, 
Out o're the window cast, Sir ; 
With a convoy of holo hoi, 
Unto the streets were sent, Sir. 



The French are disappointed, 
Their wicked plots disjointed ; 
Poor Cockburn he's affronted, 
But the Whiggs they're advanced. 



Long necked Peggie H[ome], Sir, 
Did weep and stay at home, Sir ; 
'Cause poor Cockburn and his wife 
Were forc'd to flee the town, Sir. 



66 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 



6 



And after they were gone, Sir, 
They went to Stirling town, Sir ; 
They thought with their heart and mind 
To get poor Jamie home, Sir. 



But they were disappointed, 
And their wicked plots disjointed ; 
We'll make them all run and cry, 
Oh ! we're disappointed. 



8 



Their Highland King for fear, Sir, 
Was put in such a steer, Sir ; 
We made his breeks have such stink, 
That none could him come near, Sir. 

9 

Macdonald is his name, Sir, 
Of him you may think shame, Sir ; 
A Highlander whose name stinks, 
You Popish rogue go home, Sir. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 67 



10 



The Chess- window did reel, Sir, 
Like to a spinning wheel, Sir ; 
For Dagon he is falFn now, 
I hope he'll never rise, Sir. 

11 

Some say thir lines were compos'd 
By boys in grammar school, Sir ; 
What they've said, they are ador'd ; 
Amen, so let it be, Sir. 




68 A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 

XIX. 

«Klasgofo'!3 ^arrair* 

To the Tune of The winter is cold, my cleeding is thin. 

The Original, now in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates, for- 
merly belonged to Wodrow. From its minute description of the 
proceedings at Glasgow, on occasion of the Coronation of George 
I., it has been inserted in this little Collection. 

Come all ye Protestants give ear to my song, 
The Jacobite-^riy they thought to do wrong, 
To have a Pretender our King for to be, 
But they're prevented, we bless the Most Hie. 

Queen Ann is departed and Harlay's brought down ; 
King George is anointed and mounted the throne, 
The Wkiggs are advanced our heads for to be, 
Much joy is expressed among the clergie. 

The churches did meet, and thought on the same,, 
Appointed a day to thank and proclaim, 
God's works to declare that wonderfull be. 
Ascribing the praises unto the Most Hie. 



A NEW BOOK OP OLD BALLADS. 69 

That he so appeared King George to advance, 
In spite of Pretender, the Pope, and of France, 
And all their complyers tho' they be hie, 
He'll give them defyance whatever they be. 

The day is appointed his crown to set on, 
These news are proclaimed in city and town, 
All things are provided that necessar be, 
For advancing the honour of his clemencie. 

What might be their labour into other towns, 
We cannot declare it, but in our own bounds ; 
And Glasgow the chiefest in every degree, 
They may well declare the same who did see. 

October the twenty, when day did begin, 
The Magistrates mounted, and nobles came in, 
The burgesses meet in every degree, 
Appointed their way for solemnitie. 

At twelve of the clock their drums they went throw, 
Acquainted the people how that they must bow, 
And yeeld with submission, what e'er might be, 
The hopes that they had of bastard Jamie. 

At two afternoon they might well be seen, 
So properly mounted, approaching the green, 
With collors display'd, in wind they did flee, 
I dare well declare a pretty Meinzie. 



70 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

With sword and with gun as clear as the steel, 
And cocks on their hats, as set them full well ; 
With ribban at sword as low as their knee, 
With right pretty poses as ever might be ; 

They planted their ground, so rested a while, 
But e're it was long, they're heard off a mile 
With oyes most loud, their hats they did flee, 
And all was for joy, King George was so hie. 

Before five o'clock they returned again, 
Approached the town a right stately train ; 
With flourished collors full pleasant to see, 
The bells they did ring with sweet melodie. 

Frae once they were planted each man at the cross, 
There might none go by, on foot or on horse ; 
They did stand most stately as ever might be, 
Their guns they discharged in highest degree. 

The Magistrates stood, and their officers still, 

And gave them their word what e're was their will ; 

The same they obeyed in every degree, 

Their swords they unsheathed, and hats they did flee. 

They sent up some men, and they took off the cock 
From off the Tolbooth, wherein stood their knock ; 
They mounted a lamp as great as might be, 
With many great candles, that people might see. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. Jl 

The bon-fires burnt in all parts of the town, 
For joy of King George they made this renown ; 
Then lighted their candles so thick as might be, 
Although a dark night, you money might see. 

To ly on the streets, or to change if ye will, 
For wine and good brandy to drink of your fill ; 
You needed no guides, what ever you be, 
To find out a lodging in all that citie. 

The bells they did ring, the shots they did roar, 
There was ne're a Scotsman the like saw before ; 
Such animose joy in every degree, 
And all for King George his High Majestie. 

I wish our Great Soveraign now on the throne, 
Had been in brave Glasgow to see what was done, 
For honour and joy of his Majestie, 
That he was come over our King for to be, 

The fires did burn till late in the night, 
And candles continued still in our sight ; 
No darkness nor grief at all we did see, 
But each one rejoicing in every degree. 

The gallants they travelled still up and down, 
And still the brave bon-fires compassed round : 
They drank the good- wine in the highest degree, 
And then the brave glasses they mounted full hie. 



72 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

There was to be seen as ye passed along, 

In many glass- windows the rest was among ; 

In legible letters that any might see, 

God save our King George in peace and safe tie. 

Some for their great honour the rest was above, 
Whereby for their profit I hope it shall prove ; 
Did keep a free table with so great plentie, 
Where all was made welcome, what ever they be. 

I pray you, brave Magistrats, pardon me all, 
And also ye officers, both great and small ; 
That order these men so pleasant to see, 
For this my poor scribble to venture so hie. 

For tho* I be not a great man of the state, 
Nor yet a great lawyer for ending debate ; 
Yet I let you to know, whatever you be, 
I pray for his Majesty as well as ye. 



\ 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLAD*. /O 

XX. 

Boltr Ifcaultin. 

The following is from a MS. copy in the possession of W. H. Logan, 
Esquire, derived from oral tradition. It is exceedingly curious, 
as being quite a new version of the old Ballad called " Lammi- 
kin," for which see Finlay's Ballads, Vol. ii, pp. 47 and 57, as 
also Herd's Scots Songs, Vol. i, p. 145. Whether the present 
is the original Ballad must of course remain a matter of doubt ; 
but it has this advantage at least, that the appellation bestow- 
ed upon the hero is more intelligible than that of the mysteri- 
ous " Lammikin." 

Said the Lord to his Lady, 

Beware of Rankin ; 
For I am going to England 

To wait on the King. 

No fears, no fears, 

Said the Lady, said she ; 
For the doors shall be bolted 

And the windows pindee. 

Go bar all the windows, 

Both outside and in ; 
Don't leave a window open 

To let bold Rankin in. 



74 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

She has barred all the windows, 

Both outside and in ; 
But she left one of them open 

To let bold Rankin in. 

O where is the master of this house, 

Said bold Rankin ? 
He's up in Old England, 

Said the false nurse to him. 

O where is the mistress of this house, 

Said bold Rankin ? 
She's up in the chamber sleeping, 

Said the false nurse to him. 

O how shall we get her down, 

Said bold Rankin ? 
By piercing the baby, 

Said the false nurse to him. 

Go please the baby, nursy O, 
Go please it with a bell ; 

It will not be pleased, madam, 
Till you come down yoursel. 

How can I come down stairs 

So late into the night, 
Without coal or candle 

To shew me the light ? 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 75 

There is a silver bolt lies 

On the chest head ; 
Give it to the baby, — 

Gave it sweet milk and bread. 

She rammed the silver bolt 

Up the baby's nose ; 
Till the blood it came trinkling down 

The baby's fine clothes. 

Go please the baby, nursy, 

Go please it with the bell ; 
It will not please, madam, 

Till you come down yoursel. 

It will neither please with breast milk, 

Nor yet with pap ; 
But I pray, loving Lady, 

Come and roll it in your lap. 

The first step she stepit, 

She steppit on a stone ; 
And the next step she stepit 

She met bold Rankin. 

O Rankin, O Rankin, 

Spare me till twelve o'clock, 
And I will give you as many guineas 

As you can carry on your back. 



76 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

What care I for as many guineas 

As seeds into a sack ; 
When I cannot keep my hands 

Off your lily white neck ? 

O will I kill her, nursy, 

Or let her abee ? 
O kill her said the false nurse, 

She was never good to me. 

Go scour the bason, Lady, 

Both outside and in ; 
To hold your mother's heart's blood, 

Sprung from a noble kin. 

To hold my mother's heart's blood 
Would make my heart full woe, 

O rather kill me, Rankin, 
And let my mother go 

Go scour the bason, servants, 

Both outside and in, 
To hold your Lady's heart's blood, 

Sprung from a noble kin. 

To hold my lady's heart's blood 
Would make my heart full woe ; 

O rather kill me, Rankin, 
And let my Lady go. 



A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 77 

Go scour the bason, nursy, 

Both outside and in, 
To hold your Lady's heart's blood, 

Sprung from a noble kin. 

To hold my Lady's heart's blood 

Would make my heart full glad ; 
Ram in the knife bold Rankin, 

And gar the blood to shed. 

She's none of my comrades, 

She's none of my kin : 
Ram in the knife, bold Rankin, 

And gar the blood rin. 

O will I kill her, nursy, 

Or let her abee ? 
O kill her^ said the false nurse,, 

She was never good to me. 



e< I wish my wife and family 
May be all well at home ; 

For the silver buttons of my coat 
They will not stay on." 

As Betsy was looking 
O'er her window so high, 

She saw her dear father 
Come riding by. 



78 A NEW BOOK OF OLD BALLADS. 

" O father, dear father, 

Don't put the blame on me ; 

It was false nurse and Rankin 
That killed your Lady.'* 

O was'nt that an awful sight, 
When he came to the stair ; 

To see his fairest Lady 
Lie bleeding there ? 

The false nurse was burnt 
On the mountain hill head ; 

And Rankin was boiled 
In a pot full of lead. 



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